


And the Fog Lifts

by katunafish_sandwiche



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Asexual Character, Childhood Stories, Cuddling & Snuggling, Depression, Depression Recovery, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Protective Jon, Rescue Mission, Romance, Sappy Fluff, Snogging, The Lonely - Freeform, Trans Martin, angry protective martin, bullying tw, jon and martin escaping the lonely, jon is a softie, loneliness recovery, passionate makeout sessions, rejection and recovery, rescue through kissing, soft jon, transphobia TW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:46:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23892544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katunafish_sandwiche/pseuds/katunafish_sandwiche
Summary: Jon begins to feel a panic welling up under his ribcage, a very familiar feeling now. They can’t afford to stay too long here in the Lonely or they’ll lose their way, both melt into the numbness and nothingness forever. Even now he turns to look and begins to lose sight of the path he came in on.Then he remembers. A resolve kicking into place, he reaches his hands up to place them on either side of Martin’s face.“Martin...can I kiss you?”Martin looks him in the eyes, and then nods, tears continuing to track their way down his cheeks, slow and unrelenting. Jon nods as well at the affirmation.“Right,” he says, heart pounding, and closes the gap between them.Further explorations of Jon and Martin's time in the Lonely and the blossoming of their relationship thereafter.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 8
Kudos: 160





	And the Fog Lifts

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, it's another episode 159/160 fic.
> 
> So, this is a bit of a cathartic exploration of my experiences with deep depression (involving bipolar disorder) which the Lonely draws a clear parallel with. I'm really gratified that Jonny Sims openly talked about his realization that being in the Lonely was very much like depression because I definitely felt that the first time I listened to episode 159.
> 
> In my experience, when I've initially come out of depression, which involves a deep lack of emotions and feelings and just utter numbness, I feel overwhelmed with emotions and feelings that I haven't felt for months, it's like a switch going on and then suddenly I'm feeling everything at once. So I wanted to write about the possibility of that happening for Martin when he comes out of the Lonely.
> 
> Lot's of hurt/comfort and a bunch of sappy snuggly fluff. My kind of party.
> 
> Also, there is a brief mention in here of Martin's being trans and the resultant trans-phobia from his mother as I do headcanon that for him. So fair warning, if that is triggering for you.

“Martin, look at me. Look at me, and tell me what you see.”

As the fog clears and Jon’s face comes into his focus the resurgence of Martin’s love for him rises up once more and with it comes all the pain and grief and anger crashing down and threatening to suffocate him.

“I see...I see _you_ , Jon. _I see you_.”

He stumbles into Jon’s arms, tremblingly burying his face into his shoulder, sobs wracking out of him.

“ _Martin_ ,” Jon murmurs into his ear, face in his hair, relief and affection saturating his voice, and he feels Jon’s warmth surrounding him as he wraps him firmly in his arms and Martin melts into that, into him. At last he begins to feel safe, sensing the cold beginning to ebb away.

“I was on my own. I was all on my own.”“Not anymore.”

Jon plants a kiss to his cheek, to his hair, and Martin feels warmth spread from that all the way through him like a wave, but it recedes soon after as Jon then moves out of the embrace, taking one of his hands in his own.

“Come on. Let’s go home.”  
“How?”  
“Don’t worry. I know the way.”

They make their way through the eerie, desolate landscape for an endless amount of time, nothing but the sound of sand crunching under their feet and the vague waves crashing along the shore. Martin tries to focus on the task at hand, looking at Jon every few seconds, unable to quite believe that he is actually there, actually came into the Lonely to find him. Maybe this is all just an illusion. Peter talked about how the Lonely could do that, make you see things as a way to comfort oneself when the loneliness was overwhelming.

He drops to his knees then, unable to stop the shaking coming over him even as he starts to sob again. But that doesn’t make sense. If the Lonely still had him then he shouldn’t be able to cry, shouldn’t be able to feel anything. And even as he cries and fights to control his breathing he begins to feel a manic kind of hysteria bubbling up and out of him and then he’s laughing violently and doesn’t even know what for.

A soft touch on his shoulders brings him to the surface a little and he finds Jon’s face again as he drops to his knees beside Martin, concerned and focused solely on him, hands moving up and down his shoulders and arms in a soothing motion. Martin closes his eyes, reveling in the warmth, the feeling of attention. Maybe he’s okay with an illusion. It feels comforting at least, here he can survive in this little fairy tale. _Jon loves me. Jon cares about me. Jon came into the Lonely to find me. I just hope he’s okay._ The cold fog begins to sweep through him again, reclaiming his thoughts. _You are all alone. No one cares. Forget about it all_. He begins to fade.

“No! Please, don’t leave me again. Look at me, Martin.”

Martin opens his eyes with an effort to see Jon swimming into view once more.

“Are you real?”

“Wha-yes, yes I’m real, Martin.”

“I’m so cold, Jon.”

Jon begins to feel a panic welling up under his rib-cage, a very familiar feeling now. They can’t afford to stay too long here in the Lonely or they’ll lose their way, both melt into the numbness and nothingness forever. Even now he turns to look and begins to lose sight of the path he came in on.

Then he remembers. A resolve kicking into place, he reaches his hands up to place them on either side of Martin’s face.

“Martin...can I kiss you?”

Martin looks him in the eyes, and then nods, tears continuing to track their way down his cheeks, slow and unrelenting. Jon nods as well at the affirmation.

“Right,” he says, heart pounding, and closes the gap between them.

He doesn’t know what to expect, doesn’t know if this will work at all. _I really loved you, you know._ Loved. Loved. Loved. But he knows his own love for Martin, feels it welling up inside him, refusing to let go, and he hopes that that is enough. And as he presses his mouth against Martin’s, he feels something awaken in him, a surge of exquisite, blissful feeling erupting inside him, filling him with a deep warmth. Martin gasps then, clutches desperately at his back, hands filled with heat, pulls Jon further into his chest until there is no space between them at all. Jon makes a sound of surprise and then surrenders all thought, all feelings except for these, of Martin’s soft, warm mouth moving firmly against his, of his tongue swiping against his lips with gentle but insistent licks until Jon’s mouth has opened fully under his and Martin slips inside. He had never expected this, that Martin would kiss like this, forceful, aggressive but loving all once. Martin makes a sound against his lips and Jon shudders at the sensation of it, of the vibrations running through him and feels sounds escape him as well.

It is the feeling of Martin leaning ever further into Jon until he’s toppled over onto his back that brings them out of it. They break apart, befuddled, gasping for breath, Martin laying on Jon’s chest, to find that they are back in the tunnels below the institute. Martin looks around them, stunned, and then looks back to Jon, a small smile breaking out across his face. Color has returned to his cheeks, his eyes bright once more and Jon feels as though he’s never seen a more lovely sight in all his life. Neither of them speak about the kiss, although it is there, a warm acceptance, a possibility, in the space between them.

“So this all was real,” murmurs Martin, as he looks at Jon with a soft, sheepish look in his eyes. It’s now hitting him how carried away he was getting just a moment ago. Jon’s hands reach up, running warmly up and down Martin’s back. He shivers at the touch.

“You thought it was the Lonely creating illusions?” Jon asks dazedly, stilling catching his breath, but the danger of the Lonely is not yet far enough in the past for him to feel that he can make much light of the situation presently.

Martin nods shakily, a blush growing along his cheeks as the realization settles over him, the very intimate position he’s found himself in, sprawled across Jon’s chest, between his legs. But he doesn’t want to get up, would rather stay in Jon’s embrace until the Lonely fully unleashes its grip on him.

“I guess we should try to find a way out of her,” he mumbles, and Jon nods. But Martin can’t help but reach his hand out to stroke his fingers against Jon’s cheek where a blush immediately blooms along his dark complexion, and lean forward to press his lips once more to Jon’s, realizing that he must look absolutely starry-eyed and also that he doesn’t care one bit.

“Well now, isn’t this touching.” Both Martin and Jon lookup, startled to find Helen leaning against a doorway that certainly wasn’t there a few moments before. She fades in and out of sight like a static neon light bulb and then fully comes into being, arms crossed and enormously bulbous hands trailing down to the floor. She’s smiling indulgently down at the two of them.

“Helen,” Jon nods at her coldly.

“So, you two escaped the Lonely. That’s really very amusing.” Her smile widens a little too broadly, her body appearing to grow both bigger, taller than the hallway, and then minuscule, all at once.

“Yes. Have you seen Elias? Has he come through here?”

“Elias? Weeelll, I’d say he came through a few days ago, though I’m really not a good judge on time,” she laughs, the strange echoing sounds reverberating around the hall.

“A few days?!” Jon yelps, struggling to get up until Martin stumbles off him and then pulls him to his feet.

“Yes,” she drawls, “He seems to be looking for you, but he appears to be doing that from his office now. I think you two had better come with me.” She jerks her head towards the now open doorway.

Jon begins to feel a rage taking over, the memory of his last encounter with her flooding his mind and snaps, “Why are you helping me now?”

“Well, the fun’s over now, isn’t it. And I do like to help enough to get things rolling again." That headache-inducing laugh fills the corridors once more. "Come on now, Elias will be along any moment," she says in an attempt at a cajoling tone, "Better hurry.”

Jon hesitates and then sighs and then takes Martin’s hand, who then reaches to clutch his full arm firmly in both of his own, laying his head on his shoulder to maintain as much contact as possible. Jon smiles down at him and adjusts himself until he has his other arm wrapped tightly around Martin’s waist as well, knows that he also needs physical contact just as much. Only then does Martin’s recurring trembling seem to quiet down a bit. And together they walk through the doorway.

Martin wakes to the feeling of being kissed gently on the cheek. He smiles with his eyes still closed, heart fluttering in his chest as he revels in the feeling.

“Morning,” Jon’s low voice whispers in his ear, arms wrapping more firmly around him, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Martin finally opens his eyes to meet Jon’s and smiles again, biting his lip.

“I don’t mind at all,” he says, leaning up to plant a return kiss onto Jon’s cheek, hearing Jon’s breath stuttering in his ear. He reaches up to run his fingers through Jon’s hair, feeling for the moment that he is safe and warm and loved.

“Mm, question. Why am I lying on top of you?”

Jon laughs quietly and Martin feels it rumbling lightly in his chest.

“You uh, woke up half asleep last night, grumbling that we were too far apart, and then proceeded to climb on top of me.”

“Sorry. that is disgustingly cute on my part, I have to say.”

“Agreed,” Jon smirks and reaches up to pet Martin’s curls, “It’s been quite lovely, actually. Your weight is very comforting. I think I've actually slept for a good three hours.”

“Oh, well done,” Martin scoffs, "Although I'd say that's probably a record for these days.

"Mmn"

It all comes back to Martin then. The journey through the Distortion, a complete whiplash of an experience compared to the suffocating silence of the Lonely. Finding Basira in the Archives, shaken and shutdown but still firmly ordering them to get out of the institute while things were still somewhat calm. Her eyes had been glazed, her mind obviously focused on Daisy as she handed them the address to her safe house in Scotland claiming that “Daisy definitely wouldn’t be needing it for a while”. Then the long train ride up north. Martin had practically been sitting in Jon’s lap the entire way and Jon certainly hadn’t complained, ignoring the curious, possibly judging, looks from other passengers. Collapsing into bed as soon as they got into the house.

“We were pretty exhausted last night.”

“Mm.”

“I have to use the toilet, be back in a few.”

“Alright.”

In the bathroom, Martin studies his reflection in the mirror, looking for signs of the Lonely in his appearance, but all seems normal despite nagging sense of emptiness threatening to creep in which is trying to ignore. He shakes himself, washes his face with trembling hands, and then scrounges around until he finds some toothpaste and an unopened toothbrush. Cleaning his teeth is good, helps him to focus on being here in this realm. It is then that he notices in the mirror’s reflection a fog creeping in through the window. Not unusual in the Scottish highlands, but he now recognizes it for what it is as the soft white tendrils move steadily towards him.

“No, no, no,” he whimpers, the numbness already beginning to seep through him, the blissful uncaring feeling filtering through his thoughts. And he begins to fade away.

Raindrops are falling on his face amidst the sounds of distant waves crashing. He hears a voice calling as though from miles away but as much as he tries, he can’t seem to hear the words nor locate the sound. Then hands are grabbing him by the shoulders and it’s like he’s breaking above an ocean’s surface without knowledge of having been drowning, gasping for air, the cold waking him like a slap in the face.

“Oh, god, Martin I thought I’d lost you again.” Rain turned to tears, falling onto him. Jon pulls him onto his lap and wraps him in his arms once more, tucks his head into his shoulder, and they stay like that for a long time until Martin’s breathing has slowed and his trembling stops. He starts to cry.

“I-I’m sorry,” he sobs, unable to stop.

“No, no, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not okay,” he takes a panicked, shaky breath, “I should be able to go to the bathroom for five minutes without collapsing. Oh god, what am I going to do, Jon?”

“Martin, you were in the Lonely for a long time. We were in there for days, time moved strangely there. No one is supposed to have ever survived and gotten out of there. I think it’s only the fact that we love one another that even allowed us the chance to escape there. It’s natural that you would be having a reaction like this. But you have to let me know when it starts coming on.”

Martin’s heart stutters at the word “love”. It’s the first time it’s been acknowledged fully by either of them.

“I didn’t want to burden you with it.”

Jon sighs.

“I know, but you don’t need to think of it like that.”

“I do love you, really.”

“Then let me help you. You’ve taken care of me for so long. Let me take care of you.”

Jon removes Martin’s glasses, places them gently on the rim of the sink, and then tilts his head in to softly kiss him. Martin makes a helpless sound, leans into it, into him, hands reaching up once more to run his fingers through his hair. This is not like the first kiss, it is slow and languid and exploratory rather than explosive and desperate. Martin feels his heart opening, warming, blooming fully into being. When he opens his eyes, the fog has receded, he watches in wonder at its fast refolding back through the window like a time lapsed film in reverse.

Jon watches the fog recede as well and then turns to Martin, eyes and voice filled with a deep, angry burning. 

"I love you, and I will not let the lonely take you again, he says. Martin shivers under the heat of his gaze at which Jon softens. “Come on, let’s go back to bed. It’s still a bit early.”

They spend the next few weeks barely separate for more than a minute or two at a time. Much of the time is spent in bed, with Martin on top of Jon, or Jon on top of Martin, to create as much physical contact as possible. A time for healing the loneliness, a lifetime of loneliness for Martin. Healing from the rejection from his mother, the lack of physical love in any form- hugs, kisses to the forehead and cheek, the lack of support and the lack of I love yous. The strain of having to take care of her all on his own with no amount of gratitude or love in return. It all comes flooding out of his mouth in turns. He voices the fear that was always there deep down-that his mother had never cared about him, had never really loved him and then had come to fully hate him when he finally told her that he was her son, not her daughter. When he chose more and more to look like his father, the man who had left them and the one whom she hated.The moment that Elias had said it, he knew it was true and the world seemed to crumble away from him. Healing from the trauma of all that they have dealt with through the institute.

Jon holds him through it, kisses him as often as Martin wants, which is very often, tells him that he loves him more times than he can count. He sees the way Martin soaks it in, the love he’s been starving for for a long time, and feels gratified, relieved. And he needs it as much as Martin does, having felt a lifetime of loneliness as well, feeling like a burden to his resentful grandmother who was sparing in showing any affection other than the books she bought for him. He tells him about the piles of cheap books she bought in the hopes that they would occupy him, the lack of friends due to his precociousness, the bullying, the book which took his bully and which still haunted his dreams even now. Martin listens intently, an angry protective look passing over his face as Jon talks of the frequent bullying he experienced, as though wanting to do something about it though the time for it is long since past. Instead, he hugs him tightly to him.

Jon tells him stories from the books he had read, the ones that stuck with him over the years. Martin recites poetry for him, even blushingly reads the ones he wrote for him, about him. Jon smiles, wonders how he could have ever misunderstood how wonderful this man was, this kind, smart, sweet man. And Martin watches Jon's disposition shift, the way his skin seems to glow, changes from an ashy grey to its former coppery golden brown, the way it was before he took on his role as archivist.

Martin remembers the moment he'd stepped into the archives and been introduced to Jon on the first day of his new job, struck by the beauty of him, of the intensity his gaze as Elias introduced them to one another. "Hullo, Martin," he'd said and Martin had quite forgotten to say anything in return, he was so fascinated by the way Jon said his name. Mah-tin, completely leaving out the r. He'd never heard his name pronounced like that and would find himself in the coming months hoping constantly that Jon would say it again. Martin had felt himself grow warm under the scrutiny of that gaze, felt seen in a way that he really felt he'd never experienced before. Quite too late, he'd mumbled out a nervous "H-hello...Jon," and Jon in turn had narrowed his eyes, continuing to study him and Martin had gazed back at him in turn, noticing the black trimly cut hair, the smart and neat suit, the golden brown glow of his skin. And those dark, deep eyes fringed with long black lashes, large and ever watching him. 

Finally, Jon had broken the gaze and turned back to Elias.

"Well, if that's all I really should be getting back to work. Gertrude wants this report done by the end of the day." He'd given Martin a curt nod and returned to his papers.

And Martin had been shown to his desk, sitting down in a dazed sort of way, glancing over at Jon every few moments. He'd realized with a start that he was absolutely smitten, and he hadn't even know Jon longer than a few minutes. He had also come to the conclusion that Jon was utterly out of his league and most likely would never even consider him as someone to have a romantic interest in. And yet he could not help his feelings, had felt them blossom into something heady and strong over the coming months turned to years.

Now he found himself stunned at the fact that they were together, so in love he felt intoxicated by it, nurtured and slowly becoming whole in way he'd certainly never felt before.

“Sometimes it’s hard for me to believe, how we’re actually together like this. That you came into the Lonely to find me. I could never quite imagine that you would ever reciprocate my feelings for you.”

Jon’s smile falters, he bites his lip.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know how to make up for the way that I treated you. I think there was a part of me afraid to welcome your kindness, wasn’t quite ready to accept it.”

Martin shakes his head.

“You were under a lot of pressure, what with being promoted to archivist and dealing with the beholding and everything. Those statements are draining and difficult to handle, I saw that as soon as I started reading the first one.”

“But it’s still no excuse for the way I treated you.”

“It’s okay, I forgive you. But...thank you for saying it. You’ve helped me and supported me so much these past few weeks, it really makes up so much for anything you might have said in the past.”

“Well, It’s not just to make up for the past but, it’s also because I care about you. Anyways, I was either blind then or maybe just in denial about the way I felt about you.” He pauses, watching Martin smile, and leans in to nuzzle against his cheek. Martin makes a soft sound, appreciative, and turns his head slowly until their lips meet.

Jon wonders if he will ever get used to the way he feels whenever Martin kisses him, doesn’t really want to get used to it, loves the way it takes his breath away, even the soft, gentle ones like this, loves the way in which he feels as though he is melting inside, the world narrowed down to this quiet little moment with the one he loves.

And then one morning Jon wakes to find the bed empty, no comforting weight across him. Panic wells up inside him, he rushes to the bathroom to find that empty as well, checks all the rooms. Then he hears the back door of the kitchen opening and Martin walks in, a bag in each hand and a beaming smile on his face.

“We were out of tea when I got up this morning, so I went down to the shop to get some, bought some things to fix for breakfast as well.”

“That’s...thank you, Martin.”

Martin looks up at him again and they just stand there acknowledging the moment, the hope that things can only become better from this moment forward.

Jon comes forward and takes the bags from his hands, then hugs him, feeling both relieved and content. Martin smiles, buries his face in Jon’s hair.

“I have to say though, I did miss waking up with you this morning.”

Martin laughs softly at that.

“Yeah, well, that’s not gonna change. That’ll still happen. It was just such a lovely morning, I felt I had to walk in it. No fog.”

Jon smiles.

“Yes. No fog.”

**Author's Note:**

> "We have to snuggle to save one another, it's the only way!!"  
> What can I say, i'm all about those kissing to save your lover tropes.
> 
> I'm majorursaminor7 on Tumblr, come say hi!


End file.
